


we are all stars

by nicole_writes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everyone is friends, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Friendship, Hunk Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Klance, Slight Variance From Canon, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Space Mom Allura (Voltron), Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), Study of friendship and bonds, minor shallura, slight angst, space words
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9591746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicole_writes/pseuds/nicole_writes
Summary: we are all stars and we are joined by constellations—these lines that connect us that we’ll never see, but we’ll never break. this universe is our home, and someday we’ll return to it as stardust. Voltron one-shot series exploring relationships. Also posted on Tumblr





	1. i - aphelion

_**a • phe • li • on** {noun}  
\- the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is furthest from the sun. - _

\- ~ -

_Just one last calibration_ , she urged, twisting the disk of her tiny satellite thirteen degrees towards the brightest star, the direction she'd determined was west. She leant away from the disk and squinted at her monitor. Still, the frequencies were flat and inactive. Her shoulders drooped as she slouched forwards, disappointed.

The only thing she'd managed to grasp onto recently was a radio broadcast for the Ilvarneys, a friendly alien race on a nearby planet who apparently liked to broadcast very garbled and confusing talk shows. She had tuned into one a few times and thought it was funny, but after that, she blocked its frequency and went back to searching for her real goal. She wanted information on the Galra. She was going to find her family. 

She was half-certain that she might tear the whole galaxy apart to do it. 

Still, Voltron was important, as was Green, and she couldn't exactly leave her team. The other Paladins needed her. So she scheduled her searches for late at night when most frequencies were blank and she listened. Mostly silence with the occasional burst of static, but her hope was spurred by the one useless Galra guard shift she'd managed to intercept. It had turned out that it was simply a convoy, so Voltron had no real business with it, aside from looting its valuables to give to members of the Alliance. 

Pidge snatched a pen from her pocket and scribbled down a few notes—48 degrees west of north is silent—before she started desperately solving for her next variable: her next angle to adjust at. She’d been at it for hours, taking breaks only to tinker with the Rover unit she was currently building or to study the picture of her and Matt. She missed him. 

Still, she had several dozen more equations she could try tonight before she could get some sleep. Shiro had come by earlier and asked her to get as much sleep as she could. Pidge had assured him she would head back to her cabin and sleep soon. She wasn't sure how long she'd been working, but Shiro hadn't come back, so she assumed it wasn't that long. 

She fitted her pen behind her ear as she inputted her newly calculated equation. Her tongue poked out of her mouth as she wrote the last, particularly hard line of code. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice clearing its throat. Pidge tensed. 

“Shiro,” she started without even turning around, “I promise I'll go to bed, just let me finish this last test!”

“Pidge,” the voice said, but it didn't carry the heavy disappointment that she expected Shiro to have. 

Then, she realised that it definitely wasn't Shiro’s voice anyways. Her eyes flickered to the ticker in the bottom corner of her computer, and she noted that it was early in the day cycle now, versus how it had been nighttime when Shiro found her the first time. Pidge exhaled slowly and turned to face the Red Paladin. 

“Pidge,” Keith began, a little awkwardly. He shuffled his feet forwards a little. “Have you been out here all night?”

She glanced down at her computer, avoiding the answer. Keith didn't say anything, but he took a few steps towards her. Pidge turned away from him, shoulders crumpling. 

“I won't tell Shiro, if that's what you’re worried about,” Keith assured her. 

She snapped her head to look at him. Keith told Shiro everything. If he wasn't going to tell on her, it meant that something was going on. She studied him. The Red Paladin’s posture was slumped and tired and his body language was awkward. His hair was a little wild, but considering he'd probably just woken up, it was to be expected. His eyes were flicking between her, her computer, and the sky. 

“Why?” she asked finally, shifting to face him again. 

Keith leant back against the wall to his left and sighed. “Because I know how much his disappointed look hurts.”

Pidge winced. Shiro was an incredible leader, and like an older brother or even a father to all of the Paladins. He didn't get angry often, and Pidge thought that his anger was scary, but his disappointment was worse. Whenever he was upset, Shiro’s lips would press together and his eyebrows would knit and his eyes would get a disapproving look that made people shrink away in embarrassment. Disappointing Shiro sometimes felt like kicking a puppy. It was painful. 

Keith shifted audibly and Pidge tucked her knees into her chest, resting her chin upon them. 

“What have you been doing out here?” the Red Paladin finally asked. 

“Scanning,” Pidge replied bluntly. 

Keith’s expression flattened. He understood why. “Pick up on any Galra frequencies?”

Pidge shook her head and a lock of hair caught in her glasses. She pulled them off, untangled the hair, and twisted the wire frames in her hands. “Nothing but Ilvarney comedy shows,” she grumbled. 

“Maybe we just need to try another system,” Keith suggested. 

Pidge snorted. “Don't be an optimist. That's Hunk’s thing.”

Pidge realised her mistake after the words left her mouth. Her eyes shot to Keith and she studied his expression. He looked grim, which was arguably a standard look for him, and he looked far older than she knew him to be. She wondered, suddenly, if Matt would even recognise her anymore. 

“I know what it's like,” Keith said suddenly. “I know what it's like to lose a brother.”

Pidge blinked. “Shiro,” she breathed out. 

Keith scuffed his heel against the ground and stared at the smooth flooring. “We may not be blood-related, but,” he paused, his voice hitching a little.

She couldn't remember a time she'd ever seen Keith look that vulnerable, much less upset and open. “You were as good as,” she finished carefully. Keith’s lips pressed together. 

“I know how you felt when you saw the Kerberos mission went haywire. I kind of lost it myself,” he admitted. “If you ever want to talk about it,” Keith offered slowly. 

Pidge shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. Keith was not an open person, and she could see that even this exposure to her, a close companion, was hurting. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable. She wasn't the one who should be having heart-to-hearts with Keith. Pidge decided to not use up all of the Red Paladin’s empathy. 

At her refusal, Keith had visibly defused. She almost smiled. It was almost a good start, but they had work to do. Plus, if their bonds with their lions were any indication, there were a lot more things to unlock about Voltron than they thought. To know these things, she would gladly have a deep conversation with Keith and the others, but not until they were ready, and not until she had Matt, and ideally, her father back. 

She turned away from Keith, staring out into the abyss of space in front of them. She was getting a little too sappy for a scientist. 

“We’ll get them back,” Keith said. Pidge closed her eyes. 

For nearly the first time, she found herself with no doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one completed! Part two coming soon. It's called 'wormhole'


	2. ii - wormhole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is homesick. Coran has some helpful advice.

  
**_worm • hole_** _{noun}_  
_\- a hypothetical connection between widely separated regions of space-time -_

\- ~ -

_It's cold_ , he mused. His fingers were splayed against the glass of one of the Castle’s many windows. A cool sensation spread from the glass across his hand, slithering up until his sleeve hem along his wrists. Beyond the window, stars twinkled.

Lance tapped against the glass with one finger, feeling the familiar tiny vibrations under his fingertips. This feeling was familiar to him. On Earth, in space, on a foreign planet, inside his Lion—the feeling was always the same. Though being a Paladin had thrown him headfirst into an incredible adventure, it was little moments, like these, that made him feel alive. 

These experiences validated it all. Somehow it reassured him that it wasn't all just some wild, crazy dream brought on by a lack of sleep. This chaos was real, the people were real, and the memories were real. He wasn't sure which of those things were scary, and which were cool. Most of them fell somewhere in the grey area in between. 

Since he was a little kid, all he wanted to do was fly. The Garrison had finally, _finally_ , been his chance to make that dream happen, but he'd been classed as a cargo pilot and everything had shattered before his eyes. That is, until his mad stroke of luck when Keith was expelled and he earned his fighter class status. Then, of course, meeting Pidge and Hunk, the dynamic and dysfunctional and crazy people who would become his engineer and navigator. 

Then there was Shiro, and actually meeting Keith and finding Blue. He couldn't lie, being chosen as the Blue Paladin, the first of their ragtag bunch, was freeing because for once he wasn't the second choice. And he _got_ Blue, and she understood him too. Flying her was like no other craft the Garrison could supply. It was how flying was supposed to feel. 

But now, deep in space, where he should be, and he felt a deep ache for Earth. He wanted to speak Spanish and to hear familiar music and voices and to swim in an impossibly warm ocean. He wanted the colourful buildings of Havana and the life and party in Varadero. The cold of the glass stung his fingers and he withdrew them. _He wanted to go home._

Lance stepped back from the window and swallowed the lump in his throat. Homesickness wasn't new: he'd been feeling it the entirety of his time at the Garrison. Despite his love of flying, and his love of space and adventure, his first love would always be the salty, warm waters of his teal ocean back home and the family that surrounded him when he was there. Cuba was his anchor, and picturing its sunsets and beautiful days got him through the tougher nightmares. 

Just down the hall, the doors slid open with a hiss and Lance’s spine straightened. A muttering voice and shuffling feet entered the corridor and Lance watched Coran approach, completely absorbed in his own thoughts. 

The Altean stopped short when he saw Lance. “What are you doing in this part of the Castle, Lance?” Coran asked curiously. “And, so late at night too?” 

“Just wandering a little,” he muttered in reply, scuffing his toe against the polished floors. “I couldn't sleep.”

Coran remained silent for a moment, an oddity for him, as he studied Lance. “Well, you ought to try. Any sleep is better than none. And who knows when the Galra will pop up again.” The Altean nodded briskly and turned to walk away down the hallway.

“Coran!” Lance blurted, and the man stopped, turning back curiously. “Do you miss Altea?”

The edges of Coran’s moustache drooped down. “Of course I do. All my friends, my family, and my home were destroyed. I would be crazy not to miss Altea.” 

Lance licked his lips nervously. “How do you deal with it? You always seem so happy and committed all the time. When do you, you know, grieve?”

Coran stepped closer to Lance and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Lance m’boy, with something like this, I don't believe you ever stop grieving. It's about taking those feelings, and inputting them into something positive, like fixing the Castle or piloting the Blue Lion. I may not be as transparent as Allura, but I miss my people too.” He gave Lance a sad, yet somehow positive smile. 

The Blue Paladin paused. He stared into Coran’s face. The Altean was open and gentle and the hand on his shoulder was warm. Lance was surprised to know how safe, and how fatherly it felt. He offered Coran his own smile, taking the words in with respect. 

“Since the question came up, I assume that you're missing your Earth?” Coran asked, removing his hand. 

Lance nodded slowly. “On Earth, I come from a country call Cuba. It is so different from where we found the Blue Lion, and I miss it a lot. There were beautiful beaches, and vibrant colours, and water as warm as the air and salty enough to sting.” 

“It sounds wonderful,” Coran offered. “It sounds a little like part of Altea. Naturally, we had more technology than you, and more water on our planet, but the planets weren't so different.” 

Lance turned away a little and stared out the window again, studying the twinkling stars in the distance. One of them might even be his sun. A tiny smile curled the edges of your lips. “At least I have something to look forward to at the end of all of this.” 

“That's the spirit!” Coran encouraged. 

Lance paused. “Coran, I am sorry about Altea. I'm sorry you lost your home.” 

Coran nodded. “I am sorry too: for everyone on Altea, for Allura, and for myself. I'm not sure we quite anticipated that our world would have changed so much in the time we slept.”

“You did sleep for 10,000 years,” Lance pointed out. 

“That is true,” Coran agreed. “At least this way, we met the destined Paladins, including yourself. Really, you all have helped lessen the blow of losing Altea, I assure you.”

The man pulled a ticker out of his pocket and checked the time. Lance stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, picking gently at threads inside them, and curled his toes into his shoes. He studied Coran, staying completely silent, and waiting for what seemed like an appropriate lead into the next part of the conversation. 

“I think, Lance, I have something that might help with your homesickness,” Coran offered suddenly. “Follow me.”

The Altean spun and walked back the way he had before and Lance scrambled to follow after him. The two walked silently through a few corridors until they reached a part of the Castle that Lance hardly ever visited. Coran picked a door that Lance could hardly make out as it looked like it was a part of the wall and opened it easily. He stepped inside and Lance followed.

His breath hitched. There was some kind of virtual projection going on through the room. He stepped forwards and gaped. Projections of lush green hills and clear blue skies surrounded him. Lance waved his hand through a projection in awe. It looked so real, and he could even smell the clean, fresh air. This place was beautiful, and with a start, he realised that it must have been Altea. 

Coran was smiling wistfully at the scene, but he eventually pushed several buttons on a control panel in the wall and the green valley winked out of existence. There were several seconds of darkness before a new scene appeared. Sandy beaches appeared underfoot and the sound of rushing water caught Lance’s attention. The ocean near him was a gorgeous, familiar teal colour and he choked in surprise. 

The room had perfectly replicated Cuba, right down to the salty smell on the air. Lance stared, open-mouthed at the simulation of his home. He spun to face Coran, glancing between the engineer and the holograms.

“Thank you,” Lance said earnestly.

Coran smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 complete! These will be updated as I write them, so there should hopefully not be too many long breaks between chapters. Chapter 3 is called 'comet'

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a ten-part series I'm doing studying and elaborating on the relationships between the Paladins and Space Mom and Space Uncle.


End file.
